Closer
by dayfell
Summary: This Rose separated herself from the old one. This Rose was a different witch. This Rose wasn't so blindly in love with the git standing before her now.   Or so she told herself, but this Rose also lied like she used to laugh.


Rose Weasley gripped the wooden surface before her, fingers digging into the grain in an attempt to gain purchase. The act was futile, of course, doing nothing but chipping away at the golden paint smeared on her nails. Nevertheless, when she heard a voice from some distance over her shoulder, she did not release her grip, nor did she turn around. The girl continued to stare ahead, even as Scorpius came closer, closer. The sound of his footsteps muted suddenly. Rose estimated he stood no more than five feet away.

"What do you want, Malfoy?" She spat, shaking her head so that her auburn curls flew out of her view. "If your desire is to cripple my self-confidence beyond repair and transfigure me into some raw, stupid bitch resembling the rest of your bimbos, congratu-freaking-lations. Merlin knows you've already succeeded." Rose did twirl now, releasing the table, her gaze landing on his chest before flying to his face. Once upon a time, Scorpius's body would be an object of her focus for more than a millisecond, but once upon a time she would've bantered, not been so painfully honest. But this Rose separated herself from the old one. This Rose was a different witch. This Rose wasn't so blindly in love with the git standing before her now. (Or so she told herself, but this Rose also lied like she used to laugh.)

Malfoy had the grace to look shaken. He pushed a hand through his blonde hair, a habit he'd picked up from her, before repeating his earlier call. "Rosie, I'm sorry." He bit his lip, looking genuinely sorry as he extended a hand to grip her shoulder. But he was a liar, too. She knew that now. She shifted out of his reach before replying.

"No, you're not." And in her heart, she assured herself she was telling the truth. "You were the one who kissed Lucy and then had the insolence to apologize to her. You broke her heart, Scorpius." Mine, too, the horrible voice in her head added as she let his fist name slip out. Scorpius. It'd been so long since she last said that, and in spite of herself, she wanted to say it again. Scorpius, Scorpius, Scorpius. Her past. "I know we weren't dating, but I honest to Merlin thought you cared about me." She backed away, her bum hitting the table behind her. The house elves were getting a show. "I thought."

Of course she did. After all, thinking was Rose's expertise.

Everything started, as everything usually does, at the Burrow. Or, she mused, if one wanted to be technical, it could've started when a Malfoy slid between a Potter and a Weasley at the Gryffindor table in their first year, or when the Weasley first noticed the Malfoy smelled like butterscotch and Fortescue's french vanilla.

But the day everything changed- all Burrow. Rose, curled up on the couch with her feet in Albus's lap. They both laughed abruptly at some lame joke Scorp cracked from his perch on the footstool in front of them. Various other Wotters gathered round, largely ignoring the out-of-place seventeen year old boy in their midst. By now, they had accustomed themselves to the presence of he who preferred their family to his own. And Lucy, arms crossed over her chest and a scowl on her pretty face as she studied the trio.

That scene- Rose remembered it distinctly as the last time everything was okay before the rest fell to pieces. Shortly after the laughs subsided, Scorpius grinned, slapped Rose, his Rose, on the knee, and stumbled up the stairs, excusing himself on the pretense of grabbing a present from the room he shared with several other Wotter boys. Lucy followed, mumbling a "loo" and practically crawling up after him.

Rose- stupid, stupid Rose- shook it off. It didn't matter, she told herself. Just Lucy. Just Scorp. Her cousin and the boy she'd been in love with since sixth year. Nothing could happen between them, right?

Fifteen minutes later, heading up the rickety steps in search of her toothpaste, she opened the bathroom door to find him and her and snogging and against the sink, and, what the hell, she ran, ignoring his yells and her cousin's sudden sobs because that's how Rose Weasley deals with her problems. She tries to forget.

She tried to forget Christmas day, when he did the very same thing to her. She tried to forget how she was alone in her room, crying because her family always seemed to forget about her, the silly nerd with self-esteem issues. She tried to forget him gathering her up in his arms when he found her, salty tears dripping onto the sweater her Granny'd knitted him. And most of all, she tried to forget him kissing her like he didn't care that her hair was frizzy and her socks holey and her teeth a bit too big.

The backstory was irrelevant. She didn't care. Rose was Rose, and Lucy Lucy, and neither of them were good enough, she found later that night when the other girl came in with tears so similar to the ones Rose shed clouding her eyes.

The three of them managed to avoid each other once they returned to Hogwarts. Easy for Luce, fifth year and absent from all of their seventh year classes. Not so for Rose, Malfoy's former bestie. Al tried desperately to get them to talk to each other, pleading ignorance to the cause of their feud. He knew, though, just as everyone did. It was Hogwarts, after all. Stories got around, especially ones as drama-filled as theirs. Save for a brush-by in the library and a particularly awkward potions class, however, they were successful. Until now.

And here they were. Just Rose and Scorpius, in the kitchens of Hogwarts, surrounded by preparations for the end-of-term feast. She continued to train her eyes on his face, her breath coming in shorter and shorter bursts. "I didn't think," the blonde before her stated, his eyes narrowing.

Rose turned back to the table. Cupcakes lay on the surface, the pink icing slightly lopsided. One of her fingers strayed to a pastry, twirling in the sugar. She lifted it to her mouth, letting the sweetness melt on her tongue. "You didn't need to come down here to tell me you didn't think, Scorpius."

"No, I didn't." He fidgeted, clearly nervous, but Rose couldn't see from her position, so entranced was she in the cupcake. "I didn't have to think, because I knew."

"Knew what?" Lies, the girl told herself once more. Her tone was absent minded, but her thoughts were anything but. They raced, each covering the other. He couldn't- but what if- no, impossible- he was Scorp- he knew her- love. One of Rose's feet lifted a bit to scratch the back of her leg. Scorpius would've recognize it as a nervous habit, should he have chosen to look down. But as intent as Rose supposedly was on the cupcake, he was equally so focused on the back of her head.

"Knew that I cared about you."

There. He said it. She couldn't run, couldn't ignore. This time, it was her turn to rake her fingers through her hair, the nail polish still chipped. "You can't possibly expect me to believe that." Her voice cracked. "I don't believe that."

"Why else would I put up with you for all those years? You're not an easy girl to be around, Rose Weasley." His voice held a hint of mirth, but underneath, there was something broken. One step closer. His presence directly behind her evidenced itself in the warmth spreading up her neck and the butterscotch thick in the air. "You don't have to believe in what I say," Scorpius finally whispered. Scorp. Not Malfoy, Scorp. Hers. "Just believe me."

For a moment, she did. And that was enough.

Rose turned, found herself practically in his arms. One white hand cupped her cheek while the other rooted in her hair, just as her own did so often. Her fingers, meanwhile, dug into the table, gripping it like it was the only barrier between her and whatever the heck her future was. "You sure?" He asked, a small, sad smile tugging at his face. In that moment, Rose didn't think, didn't let her mind run through all the possibilities, establish the likelihood of his honesty. Her head bobbed. Yes.

Scorpius kissed her.

All of a sudden, it was his lips and his scent and his arms surrounding her, and she let go of her surroundings and wound her own around his neck. He pressed his mouth harder against her as she let out a small gasp. It felt so good, so good, to be back with him after so long. Best friends, lovers, whatever. Together. Scorpius lifted her so she was sitting on the table, leaning into the icing and smearing her robes with pink. Rose's hands fisted in the back of his shirt. That small piece of her heart that was the old Rose ached, and she wondered if her new self really knew best.

If this was what old Rose wanted, she sure as hell was gonna get it.

They moulded together, there in the kitchens. Rose could vaguely hear the squeaks of a house elf, probably something about the cupcakes they were ruining. She kicked off the table, getting closer and closer, coming up for a gasp of air-

"Malfoy."

He stopped the kisses he'd been slowly tracing down her neck, moved his hands from her body. Took one step back, two, so he was a respectable distance away. When he did speak, Scorpius's tone fell flat. "What?" The enchanted look flew from his eyes in an instant at the sound of his surname. Crap. She told herself she hadn't meant to say it, that it'd slipped out, but as usual, Rose Weasley lied to herself. There was no way she could kiss him, not with Luce out there, still hurting because her crush had kissed her and left her alone. Their situations weren't that different, mused Rose, except for the makeout session she'd just experienced. At least, she hoped it was unique to her.

She made no attempt to step closer to him, even as her gaze landed on his feet, now a few meters from her own. "You still haven't explained the Burrow." From the look on his face, she could tell he wasn't eager to do so. Scorpius opened his mouth for a moment, and then closed it. Tired, slightly sweaty, and with hickies likely developing already, Rose let her eyes narrow, the easiest thing to do. Get mad. Push him away. Forget. "Save it," she spat, striding past him and ignoring the tears welling up. "You've got other girls to kiss."

That could've been the end of their story. Weasley and Malfoy, more broken than Voldemort's soul. Pain, heartbreak, lust- all for naught. But by their very nature their ending wouldn't be as simple as that. Seven years couldn't be thrown away with a few bitter words, a dash of resentment, and a heavy dose of snogging. So Scorpius grabbed his friend by the arm, pulled her to him, and hugged her.

Just a hug. His arms secured themselves tightly at her waist while hers slowly, reluctantly flew around his neck. Her curls tickled his chin as he rested it on top of her head, both of them closing their eyes. To an outsider, the scene would appear intimate, the embrace of lovers. But for them, it was just Rose and Scorpius. Just them, just a hug.

That day, Rose didn't get her explanation. Scorpius didn't give it. They didn't snog again, they didn't get engaged, they didn't proclaim their love for each other. But they were friends again, and even if their robes were smeared with pink icing and Rose's neck looked a bit bruised, it didn't matter. Perhaps someday it'd develop into more, but for now, the two were content. Their ending, their love, whatever the heck they were working towards- it wouldn't be simple.

But they were one step closer.

.

**A/N: I heard authors eat reviews. Is that true? If so, feed me, my lovies. In all honesty, this is my first fanfiction, and I was somewhat sleep-deprived when writing it, so it'd be nice to know someone enjoyed it. (Haters entertaining themselves by hatin' counts too, mah homies, so write it UP, yo.)**


End file.
